


SamT'Challa Week 2016

by Tchalcons



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A collection of drabbles or ficlets or whatever, Fluff, I am The Worst at tagging anything ever, M/M, SamT'Challa Week 2016
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:05:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8022040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tchalcons/pseuds/Tchalcons
Summary: 7 Days and 7 Prompts. Let's see how many of these I can actually write. Day 4. Soulmate AU





	1. Day 1. Traveling Through Wakanda

**Author's Note:**

> As it turns out, I didn't have enough time to give Wakanda the kind of world building I wanted for Sam to be given a proper tour of Wakanda. You all get this instead.

Sam would never understand how this had become his life. How despite everything –or perhaps it was some karmic kickback because of all he’d been through- he’d gotten so lucky. He didn’t truly understand how he could be so happy now even after everything that had happened over the past few years. It felt like a blessing and a miracle, and Sam tried hard not to question it for the most part.

It was easier, at least, to just enjoy it, to let himself savor the peace that was the defining feature of his life now. It was only natural to take every chance to appreciate life, just as he was now, lounging comfortably on the bed he shared with T’Challa with his eyes fixated on the other man. He’d been moving around their room for far too long for Sam’s taste in preparation for his upcoming trip. Sam knew he’d planned for it to be long, to spend several days among the other tribes of the nation, and tend to commitments in some of the larger cities as well.

“You’re staring,” T’Challa’s voice was soft, the words full of fondness as the other man turned to face him. For a moment, Sam just took a moment to appreciate the smile playing on T’Challa’s features, the brightness of his eyes and just how relaxed he looked like this, as at ease as Sam felt in that moment. 

And then Sam pushed himself up, propping himself up easily on his arms as he grinned at T’Challa. “I’m not staring.” He protested without missing a beat, “I’m just- observing. You know, it’s rare for most Americans to get to see a panther in its natural habitat. I’ve got to take advantage of this opportunity.”

To his credit, Sam kept a straight face as he spoke though it was a struggle not to laugh at the expression that crossed T’Challa’s face. The hint of surprised pleasure at the joke and the ease of his smile as T’Challa shifted closer with a little shake of his head had Sam’s chest growing warmer, a small smirk playing across his features. “So that’s why you’re staring, then?”

“Well the view doesn’t exactly hurt either. A guy could get used to this.” The moment T’Challa was close enough, Sam was reaching out for him, sitting up fully to let his fingers drift over the other mans’ sides. The next morning T’Challa would have to leave the palace far too early in the day. He’d be off to tend to his duties as king, doing what he was born to do and the the things that he loved. And Sam? Sam would stay at the palace, would wait for the other man’s return, because his place was at T’Challa’s side now but even that had its limits. Already his heart felt heavy with the distance that would soon be between them.

“Careful, Samuel.” T’Challa’s voice was soft and fond. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Yeah? Well good then. That’s kind of what I was hoping for.” Sam leaned in for a kiss, standing to press their lips together, slow and sweet, tender, and Sam had to fight the urge to drag T’Challa closer all over again. Instead hee settled back on the bed, leaning a little into T’Challa still, fingers rubbing along the other man’s hip as Sam basked in the heat of T’Challa’s body.

He was going to miss this, and impossibly so at that. Sam knew he wouldn’t sleep as well without T’Challa there. Their bed was too big without someone else in it, and though Sam was never bored in the palace, he wasn’t looking forward to filling the spaces of his day T’Challa normally occupied. Sam would never complain about it, that just wasn’t who he was. 

But still, he wanted more and was left wishing that he could go with the other man, despite the fact there was no reason to. But going would keep them close, and would let him see the country T’Challa cared so much about. There was something important about the thought of getting to share that with him, something Sam had thought about only in abstract and not as much as he suddenly was now.

T’Challa loved his country and his people. He lived for them both. And Sam? Sam had hardly left the palace, let alone the capital to share that with him.

A strong hand squeezed the back of his neck and Sam sighed, tension he’d hardly been aware of leaving his body at the affection. “What are you thinking about?”

Sam shrugged a little, unsurprised that he’d been caught in the middle of his brooding. “It’s nothing.” And then he paused, because that was just a little too much of a lie for him. “I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

“Sam.” There was amused exasperation in his voice, a warning, and Sam shook his head a little as warm fingers rubbed along the back of his neck. “Lying to your king is considered treason, in some places.”

“Treason huh? What’s my punishment for it then?” Sam shot back without missing a beat, earning a bright laugh in response. “Can’t a guy think his boyfriend is wonderful being questioned?” T’Challa said nothing at that, and Sam sighed at him, pulling away with a little frown. “It’s nothing.” He promised. “I just, well…” Sam trailed off for a few long moments, debating on just how to put this. “I’ve been here for months and I’ve hardly left the palace.”

Shock was written all over T’Challa’s features at the words and Sam offered him a little smile, taking the other man’s free hand to lift it and press a kiss to his knuckles. “Don’t give me that look. I’m not complaining. And we both know it was for my safety, for a long time. But it’s just kinda… It’s hitting me, I guess. Knowing there’s so much of this place I’ve never seen outside of pictures.”

T’Challa shifted back slowly pulled Sam up and in, and Sam met the other man for a soft kiss, relaxing into it. His fingers curled into the other man’s shirt and he smiled a little, unable to help himself. For a while they were quiet, not distracting each other but just breathing each other in and taking comfort in the touch. 

“I hadn’t realized it mattered,” T’Challa said finally, and Sam stole another kiss, unable to help himself.

“It matters because you do.” He said simply, drawing away. “I don’t want to be just- Just that person who doesn’t know anything. Who chooses separate from the rest of the people, and the place you love so much.” Sam’s fingers slipped beneath the other man’s shirt, just to ground himself in the warmth of his skin. “I want to be a part of all of your life. Not just hear about it.”

“One might think you’re a sap with how you talk sometimes,” T’Challa murmured, voice quiet still as warm fingers swept up Sam’s spine, pressing him close once more. “You flatter me.” The other man pressed a little kiss to Sam’s forehead, “I can hardly take you tomorrow.” He pointed out quietly, “But perhaps we can work something out, when I return.”

Sam had known that already of course, so there was no kind of lingering disappointment. He just nodded a little, flashing T’Challa a small smirk. “Don’t worry, I kinda figured.” He promised, “I’m sure I’ll be able to think of something to amuse myself, til you get back.”

“And when I do,” T’Challa continued as though Sam hadn’t spoken. “It wouldn’t exactly be a hardship showing you some of my favorite places. The closer by ones first, of course, but…” He trailed off, so obviously already planning ahead, and Sam shook his head a little, looking forward to it already. “It’s your home too, Sam. As long as you want it to be.”

Sam huffed a little laugh at that, head tilting forward against the other man’s shoulder, “I want it to be.” He vowed, voice quiet still. “I don’t always feel it. It’s still so new….” He trailed off, “It’s strange still, sometimes, thinking of a home that’s not- You know.” Sam made himself shift back just enough to meet the other’s gaze, completely solemn. “But it’ll be better. Easier. When I get to see what you love.”

“You.” It took Sam a moment to process the word but when he did, he laughed a little, pressing a kiss to T’Challa’s cheek.

“I love you too.” He promised, dropping back to the bed once more. “Now finish getting ready, kitty cat. The sooner you finish up, the sooner we can talk about our vacation.”


	2. Day 4. AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time since his father’s death, something other than the rage and grief that choked him had finally gotten through. The shock was almost blinding, but T’Challa didn’t let himself focus on it. He wouldn’t let it be anything important. It couldn't be as important as he knew it should have been.
> 
> It couldn’t mean anything. He couldn't afford for this to happen.
> 
> It didn’t matter that for years he’d been waiting for those words, wondering who was out there that could greet him like that not just in English, but as though he was just another man. And now he’d finally found a person –the person, perhaps- who’d done it. Who was potentially meant to be his, who was supposed to be bound to him forever.
> 
> It was possible Sam Wilson was his soulmate. And it didn’t matter in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I read 'AU' I went through something like...Five or six different ideas. Eventually, I ended up settling on this (though those others might pop up eventually).
> 
> Relatively unedited, completely unbetaed, but it's 11pm, it's still day 4 and I actually got this done. I'm gunna take that as a good thing.
> 
> (And unlike the last post this one is perhaps a little more angsty. And not quite as organized.)
> 
> I forgot to put this last time, but feel free to come talk to me about these two together, or as a pair, or just about anything else at [Tumblr](http://samuelwilsonwrites.tumblr.com/)

“So, you like cats?”

Something in T’Challa stilled at the words, everything felt as though it’d drawn to an immediate halt as the tension that had coiled at the base of his spine and between his shoulders peaked. Distantly, he registered Rogers scolding Wilson, Wilson’s sarcastic response, but the words held no meaning in that moment. It was as though they were coming through a fog, like everything had suddenly gone just a little too hazy.

For the first time since his father’s death, something other than the rage and grief that choked him had finally gotten through. The shock was almost blinding, but T’Challa didn’t let himself focus on it. He wouldn’t let it be anything important. It couldn't be as important as he knew it should have been.

It couldn’t mean anything. He couldn't afford for this to happen.

It didn’t matter that for years he’d been waiting for those words, wondering who was out there that could greet him like that not just in English, but as though he was just another man. And now he’d finally found a person –the person, perhaps- who’d done it. Who was potentially meant to be his, who was supposed to be bound to him forever.

It was possible Sam Wilson was his soulmate. And it didn’t matter in the slightest.

Because his and Rogers both belonged in jail, now. Because he would take Barnes to Wakanda, where he would pay for what he’d done. He’d wipe his hands of all of this. He’d forget all about them, push the potential away and go back to what remained of his life.

Still, T’Challa couldn’t bring himself to speak. Not to Wilson, at least. If he didn’t speak to him, if he acted as though the other man didn’t exist, there was no way that he could be his soulmate, right? He wouldn’t have to worry about it, then.

He’d never admit that his fingers pressed into his arm, hard enough to hurt just a little, directly over where the words were. 

They meant nothing. Nothing did and nothing would. Not until he’d had his revenge.

* * *

Barnes had escaped. He’d escaped somehow, that T’Challa hadn’t understood. He’d been planning on dealing with it, on tracking him down again and killing him properly, this time around when Romanoff had approached him with an offer. A deal. She and her friends would help him hunt Barnes.

Or rather, they had thought T’Challa was helping them. He didn’t care much for the semantics of it. What had mattered was that Rogers was gone. Wilson was gone. And T’Challa knew the three of them would be together. Maybe he didn’t need the help, but if they were busy fighting each other, he wouldn’t have to deal with the three of them at once. He could get to Barnes more easily.

He wouldn’t have to deal with killing his potential soulmate himself.  
That was what T’Challa told himself as he waited for Stark to do something that took far too long as T’Challa struggled not to dwell too much on the time they were wasting. He had his own technology looking for his targets as he waited for the others, he told himself it was worth the wait. That if Romanoff was right, they’d be easy to find, that they were already found and being tracked.

He told himself it was worth it when they were finally ready to go. When they made their way to the airport. And T’Challa didn’t let himself think about the fact that it was Wilson, with Barnes. It would be over, soon. And maybe then he could have peace again.

It didn’t seem that way as he fought, though. Not when it seemed every member of Rogers team was bound and determined to get in his way, to stop him from getting remotely close to Barnes when it would be so easy if he could just get to him.

It was painful when he thought he’d finally hit that point. He’d gotten away from the main fight. He’d followed after where the soldiers had gone to the jet, and he’d gotten through the rubble without much of a problem. And then Romanoff struck him.

One blast wasn’t enough to stop him, though the shock was strong enough to be felt to hurt through the suit. And then there was another, close enough that it nearly dropped him.

Five blasts in total and his muscles felt weak despite everything, he was trembling in his suit from the force of them, too weak now to land where he needed to and unable to hold on. He’d been so close it was like a physical ache, his body was reeling still, but it wasn’t over yet. His hunt wasn’t finished yet.

And now he needed to deal with Romanoff, too. Romanoff, who looked at him with something like an apology in her eyes, though there was neither regret nor fear in her expression as he approached. He wanted to hurt her, he realized. She would have deserved it when he’d been so close and she was the sole reason Barnes had gotten away. But it was the right thing, to let the authorities handle this one. Perhaps it would make them more willing to let him take Barnes even now. 

T’Challa forced himself to keep that in mind as he made his way towards the rest of the group. It was difficult, but he made himself remember and part of him was grateful for it when they finally got there. Roger’s team wasn’t cuffed, but their hands were bound behind them by the strange spider-child’s webbing. Each of them looked up as T’Challa approached but it was Wilson who struggled to stand up, features twisted in rage and worry both.

“Be quiet,” He snapped, slipping into Xhosa almost thoughtlessly because he was exhausted, the adrenaline high was fading and the stress was more overwhelming than he’d ever admit.

And Wilson dropped back to the ground, eyes wide with shock and features twisted in something like disgust as he stared T’Challa down. It only took a moment to realize what had happened. What the expression must mean.

How many people would Sam Wilson encounter that spoke Xhosa, after all?

“You fucking asshole, I can’t believe-“ 

Sam broke off as T’Challa moved away, not sparing another glance at the rest of the group, at Stark who was bent over Rhodes’s prone form, or any of the others. It didn’t matter what he was leaving behind. He would report Romanoff. He would find Barnes. And T’Challa would end this for good no matter the cost.

* * *

T’Challa didn’t know how he hadn’t broken yet. He hadn’t slept properly since his father’s murder, and he’d eaten less than that. His sense of the world had been completely warped not once, but twice since.

Barnes was an innocent man –and one he’d almost killed. The man who’d killed his father would rot in jail for the rest of his life. And in a fit of… Something that he couldn’t quite name he’d offered Rogers and Barnes asylum in his home.

Maybe it was guilt, or regret. Maybe it was the feeling that his father would have wanted him to make amends. It was in part because of the memory of the raft rising from the water, he knew. Because no one deserved to rot there. 

And one of the men in the prison was his soulmate. Perhaps he was selfish for not wanting him to suffer. For wanting to have some kind of hope for his future. Or maybe that was just human.

T’Challa didn’t quite know. What he did know was how easy it was to hack into the Raft’s security system, to knock out the cameras and stay on the jet as Steve Rogers made his way into the prison. T’Challa wouldn’t be involved in this. He knew not one of them would want to see him in the prison cells. And it was far too risky, anyways. He’d been too rash as of late. Being further associated with this would only lead to more trouble, he knew that.

So T’Challa lingered in the jet as Steve freed his teammates and stayed in the cockpit as they settled in the jet. He tried to tell himself that it was a selfless act, for their own comfort. He knew there was more to it, though. That he didn’t think he could handle facing Sam once more. Not on top of everything else. It would be enough to know he was alive.

“You mind if I join you, man?” Apparently Sam disagreed, as they’d hardly gotten back into the air when the other man approached T’Challa. He looked exhausted, bone tired and bruised though he’d changed out of his prison clothing and he had a bottle of water in one hand. Some part of T’Challa was glad, just knowing he could do something for that pain, “I uhh. You know. Think maybe you and should have a little talk.”

T’Challa wanted nothing more than to just say no, if he was honest. He didn’t want to speak, didn’t know if he had the energy for it. But after everything, part of him wanted the closeness. And a distraction for the rest of flight wasn’t a bad thing though this wasn’t his ideal one. So he gestured to the seat next to him with a slow sigh, unsure of what to say. If there was anything to say.

“Mine confused the shit out of me, when I was a kid.” Sam offered after a few long moments of quiet. “Didn’t know what the fuck it said. Where the hell the language came from. What the hell my soulmate was doing in Africa.” He laughed a little, but the sound was quiet, almost self-conscious. “My mom always said that was why I was so loud as a kid. To see if the right person would say it.”

T’Challa laughed at that, the sound low but not as strained as it could have been. “Mine was nearly as confusing.” He admitted, “There aren’t many people who would, well…” He trailed off, “I’m sure you can imagine.”

“I can,” Sam agreed softly, “I mean, I can’t, but I- You know.” He bowed his head, fingers rubbing through his hair with a frustrated sound. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.” T’Challa hated how his voice sounded like that, low and almost flat. Toneless from the dull ache of it all. “With what I’d thought Barnes had done. With you helping him. I couldn’t…” He trailed off, grasping for words he didn’t have a handle on. “No matter what you are to me. There are some things a man can’t ignore.”

“I can only imagine.” Sam was quiet for a moment, and T’Challa allowed his eyes to fall shut for a beat, trusting the autopilot of the jet completely. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth.” Warm fingers brushed his own, and T’Challa shifted on instinct, letting Sam take his hand. “I don’t know the feeling. Not exactly. But I uhh- I lost mine, too.” And there was nothing T’Challa could say to that, not really. No matter how old the hurt was, they both knew there was no making this better.

Sam’s hand was warm in his own, though, and that was comforting. The touch felt familiar, in a way, and it didn’t matter that T’Challa knew it was because of what they were. All he wanted to do was give himself a moment to savor this, and just breathe.

The quiet that settled between them was relaxed and comfortable, and it was an effort for T’Challa to stay present in the moment. Sam’s hand in his own kept him grounded, and he hoped in that moment that he could do the same and distract the other man from what had been done to him.

There was no erasing the past, and no changing it. T’Challa couldn’t change what he’d done in his quest to avenge his father. He couldn’t change what had happened to Sam, no matter how he wanted to. But they could have this now. They could make up for what had happened, with what was still to come.

“Will you stay, for a while?” He prompted quietly, drawing Sam’s gaze back to him. “I cannot guarantee how long the others will stay.” Because he wanted to offer hope to those he could, but he didn’t want them there for long. Not once they’d finished recovering, at least. “But would you stay in Wakanda, for a while? I’m going to be- Busy, for a while I’m afraid. But I want to see where this goes. As people. As more than what we’re supposed to be.”

The words must have been the right thing to say, because Sam’s smile was wide and pleased, bright despite everything and he squeezed T’Challa’s hand just a little tighter. “Yeah,” He agreed easily, “Don’t tell Steve? But uhh- After everything. I’m kinda ready for a break. I’m tired,” He admitted. “And I- I want to get to know you. See how we work together.” Something in Sam’s eyes went soft, and a small smile tugged at T’Challa’s features in turn.

There was no changing what had been done in the past, though T’Challa wanted to. There was no way to know where things were taking them right now. But maybe, despite everything they could build a future.


End file.
